


Holding On and Letting Go

by sincerelymlb



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Connor Murphy Lives (Dear Evan Hansen), Developing Friendships, Fixing Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Novel Spoilers, Novel Universe, Self-Indulgent, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 15:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16328369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincerelymlb/pseuds/sincerelymlb
Summary: Sometimes, one split-second decision changes everything. When Connor shows up at Miguel's front door in the middle of the summer, it's the start of an emotional whirlwind that neither of them can predict.





	Holding On and Letting Go

Jessica Torres was a good mother, thank you very much. It was never easy. Miguel’s father had never been in the picture, and she was glad he wasn’t. Made no secret of it, either. Of all the people she wanted in her son’s life, he was at the bottom of the list. But, it meant she had to do everything on her own. Luckily for her, Miguel proved to be an extremely independent boy. Sometimes too independent. He’d get these wild ideas in his head, and there’d be no stopping him. He seemed convinced that he was going to change the world, someday. She just wanted him to make it through in one piece.

Miguel getting into Hanover was a blessing for both of them. He managed to secure a full scholarship. She paid for his uniform and supplies out-of-pocket, even though he insisted that he could buy them himself with the money he made working at the bakery down the street. She told him he had to let her do _some_ things for him. He’d done more than enough already. He’d lifted a huge weight off her shoulders. The education he was getting there was so much better than what he’d be getting in public school. Looked better on college applications, too. And if nothing else, Jessica was determined to give her son a promising future.

And then, it was nearly torn away.

Connor Murphy seemed like a nice boy. He was always polite when he stayed over, and Miguel lit up when he was in the room. At first, she even teased him about it. After Connor went home the first time he stopped by, she elbowed Miguel in the side.

“So. He’s just your _friend,_ huh?”

“Yes, he’s just my friend.” Miguel had averted his eyes, wrapping his arms around himself. “It’s not like that. We’re not…”

“Not yet.”

“Mom!”

By that point, they’d only known each other for a few weeks. He wasn’t even sure if Connor was into guys. And besides, he’d just gotten out of a relationship, himself. Jumping into something else so soon would be a terrible idea. Didn’t stop Jessica from giving him a look every time Connor came up in conversation, which was…often.

But then, one day in second semester, Miguel got called into the principal’s office. They’d found pot in his locker. In an instant, he saw his entire future crashing down. He ran to Connor. Told him everything. He had no idea what was going to happen next. At the end of the day, the principal called him back to apologize. Explained that “Connor Murphy came clean. He admitted that it was his.”

The rest of the day was a blur. He wanted to say something. But he couldn’t. Selfish as it was, he was scared. Terrified. Connor’s parents had money. Power. Pull. They could get him out of it with little more than a slap on the hand, maybe a mark on his record. Miguel could end up in jail. _Fact of the matter is_ , he figured, _rich white kids get away with having pot on them all the time. He’ll be fine._

Then, he didn’t show up to class the next day. Word spread like wildfire. _Connor Murphy got expelled for doing drugs._

Bullshit. The whole system was bullshit. He could list off names of students who did so much worse. Everyone knew who the big users were. Even the teachers knew and never did anything. But a little bit of pot got Connor thrown out.

He still couldn’t say anything.

He called Connor up that night. He sounded miserable. Said his parents were going to try to fight it, but if they couldn’t get him back into Hanover, he was going to rehab.

If it came to that, Miguel decided, he’d fess up.

“I can tell your parents the truth,” he offered. Connor turned it down immediately.

“They don’t know you.”

“So? If I tell them I’m your friend-”

“Miguel. Please.”

“They would probably believe me.”

“They’d tell someone at Hanover.” Miguel went silent. “Or the cops.”

“…would they?”

“Yeah.” A pause. “This was my choice, Miguel. I have to deal with it.”

That was a lie. Connor would have loved to avoid rehab, to maybe have a shot at going back to Hanover. And if they explained the situation, his parents _may_ have kept quiet. But he didn’t want them interacting with Miguel. Not then, not ever. If Miguel saw them, he’d see a side of his life that wasn’t so innocent. He’d realize that he’d been fooled. And then he’d hate him. Connor would rather go to rehab than risk that.

So, he went.

By the end of the third day that he was gone, word made its way to Jessica. Miguel tried to tell her. To explain that the pot wasn’t Connor’s. But he couldn’t admit it was _his_. He knew he should. But he couldn’t. There was nothing he hated more than disappointing his mother. The look she gave him. So, he never told her, and she didn’t buy that Connor was innocent. Miguel tried to justify it to himself. Connor _did_ smoke weed. She hated him for that, in general. Not just because of Miguel’s almost-expulsion. What difference would it make if she knew it wasn’t his in that particular instance?

For over a year, she would scowl at the very mention of his name and go into a tangent about “bad influences.” Some nights, when she was especially exhausted, those conversations took another turn.

“You wouldn’t get off as easy as he did,” she said. He knew she was right. “They’d ruin your life for it.”

Sometimes he wondered if a part of her knew the truth, and she just didn’t want to admit it to herself.

Whether she knew or not, she wouldn’t allow Connor in her house again. Not even after he’d gotten back from rehab.

Until one night, about a year and a half later.

It was the middle of the summer. The day had been a long and dreary one. Seemed like most days were, at that point. It had rained all week, and there was no sign of it stopping.

Miguel had spent most of that week holed up in his room. On his computer, rereading old books, playing video games, sleeping. There was something bothering him. He hadn’t been acting like himself since the middle of last month. Some nights, Jessica would catch him staring at his phone, scrolling through old messages. He’d type something, stare at it for a while, then delete it. Lots of days, she’d come home to find him in the kitchen, hard at work. He always insisted that he didn’t stress bake, but the amount of cakes and muffins and cookies on the counter every finals week said otherwise. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d just been through a bad breakup.

The sound of the rain pattering on the roof nearly drowned out the music coming from Miguel’s room. There was a playlist of songs he kept listening to, over and over again. Between the two mingling sounds, Jessica almost didn’t hear the knock on the door. Maybe she didn’t hear it the first time. It was quiet. Hesitant. Then, it was a little louder. Why anyone would be at the house so late was beyond her. She and Miguel had already had dinner, and she was about ready to settle in for the night.

There was the knock again. Still so quiet, like whoever it was couldn’t decide if they wanted her to hear. Slowly, she walked to the door and opened it up. And there, on her front stoop, was a soaking wet Connor Murphy.

At first, she just stared at him. He looked like a lost puppy, out there in the rain. Drenched from head to toe, his clothes clung onto his body, and his hair, longer than it was the last time she saw him, was dripping and falling in his face.

For a moment, she just stood there, staring.

“I’m sorry, I…is Miguel home?” He couldn’t make eye contact with her. Couldn’t bring himself to.

His eyes and face were red and puffy, she noticed as she studied him more closely. He’d been crying. He was trembling, too. She didn’t know if it was from anxiety or cold. Maybe it was both. Looking at him, there was no sign of the boy who’d been over to the house so many times before. Hunched posture, no joy in his eyes, no bright smile, skinnier than before. And completely soaked.

Jessica sighed.

“Come in, get out of the rain.”

She practically dragged him inside. He walked with a limp.

“What are you doing here? And in this weather? Do your parents know you’re here?”

He shook his head, still averting his eyes. Inside, it was even more obvious how much he was shivering.

“You need some dry clothes. Miguel! Come down here!”

Connor tensed at the sound of his footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Mom, what’s going-“ Miguel froze. “…Connor…”

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.”

“It’s raining,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, no shit.” Still in disbelief, he rushed over to him.

“He needs a change of clothes,” Jessica sighed. She didn’t like having him back in her house, but what was she supposed to do? Turn him away?

“Come on, I’ll get you something…” Miguel took his hand and led him upstairs. He noticed the limp very quickly.

“What happened to your leg?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re limping.”

He didn’t respond.

“Connor…”

“…I was in a car accident last week.”

“Shit, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Car was totaled.”

Miguel frowned, leading him into his room. Connor hadn’t been in there since…

“I think I’ve got some stuff that’ll fit you.” One problem at a time. He dug through his dresser, pulling out clothes that were probably Connor’s size and tossing them his way. “Put these on.”

Connor obeyed, getting dressed quickly.

“What were you doing out in the rain?”

He hesitated, just long enough that Miguel wondered if he’d even answer. Then, a confession.

“I go to the bakery, sometimes. When I know you won’t be there. I don’t know why. I just do it. But I don’t have my car anymore, so…”

“You walked all the way here?”

He nodded.

“Fuck. Connor…”

“I know.”

They both went silent.

“You’re hurt. You should sit down.”

“Your mom doesn’t want me here. I shouldn’t get comfortable.”

“Connor…”

“I have to go. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Maybe you should.” Miguel shut his music off. It was getting to be too loud, but without it, the room became unbearably quiet. “Please…just sit down. Rest.”

“I never should’ve showed up.”

“But you did, so can we please talk?”

He didn’t respond. He’d been in a fog. Every bit of logic told him not to wander to Miguel’s house, but he couldn’t help himself. Even now, it seemed, his gravitational force still had a hold on him. But the longer he stayed, the more the fog cleared and his mind screamed at him to _leave, now_. This was a bad idea. He couldn’t look at Miguel. Couldn’t bring himself to. It hurt too much. But it felt too good. For so long, he’d been addicted to him. And now he was relapsing.

Miguel sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed and burying his face in his hands. He was being an idiot. Connor ran away. He stopped responding to his texts. Just because he was there didn’t mean he was ready to open up. If anything, he seemed more closed off than before. He had to stop pushing.

“Was your family in the car with you?”

“What?”

“The accident.”

“Oh. No…no, it was just me.” Connor would have been relieved by the change of subject if the new topic of conversation was any better than the old one.

“What happened?”

“Deer ran in the road. I swerved. Hit a tree.” The lie was engrained in him, by now. He could imagine it so clearly, as if it had really happened that way.

“Jesus Christ, you could have died…”

“I know.”

“Fuck…”

“But I didn’t.”

“And you _walked_ here…”

“Miguel.”

“In the rain.”

Connor sighed.

“Why did you come here?”

“I didn’t want Zoe to have to drive me home, and I didn’t want to walk all the way back from the bakery in this weather, okay?”

“Bullshit, it’s been pouring all day.”

“…Fine. It was a stupid, split-second decision. I wasn’t thinking.”

“You’ve been avoiding me all summer.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

“It’s better that way.”

“Do you actually believe that?”

“Yes.”

“Then why the fuck are you here?”

That stung. Much more than Miguel probably meant it to. Connor’s mind started racing. _He doesn’t want you here. You shouldn’t be here. You were supposed to stay away. Couldn’t help yourself, could you? Had to come crawling back, and he doesn’t even want you. Fucking idiot. Get out. Leave him alone. He probably never gave a shit, anyway. He thinks you’re a nuisance. Fuck._

Wordlessly, Connor stood up and stormed out. Miguel ran after him, but Connor was fast, and Jessica was waiting in the living room, pacing.

“Connor, what are you-“

“Can you drive me home? Please? I’ll pay for gas, I just have to get there.”

Miguel stood at the top of the stairs. Frozen. There was desperation in his eyes, but he didn’t dare move. There was more going on than Jessica knew. That much was beyond obvious. Her son wanted him to stay, but a selfish part of her wanted this kid out of her house. She had to make an executive decision. Allowing Connor Murphy back into Miguel’s life only meant trouble. It meant risking everything. She couldn’t do that.

“Come on, I’ll get the keys.”

“Mom, please…”

Connor followed her out the door, not daring to look at Miguel. If he looked back, he wouldn’t be able to force himself to leave.

The front door slammed.

He was gone. Miguel let him slip away. Again.

No.

No, he couldn’t do that. Not this time.

He went back to his bedroom. Connor’s clothes were still on the floor, in a pile. Miguel picked them up and put them in the dryer. A plan was formulating in his mind. Not a very complicated plan, but a plan, nonetheless.

He waited. Not long. Just a few days. Long enough that maybe Connor wouldn’t be ruminating on that night, anymore. That was something Miguel had learned early on in their friendship. Connor always stayed upset about things for so long.

If he was being honest, he wasn’t even sure what went wrong. He just knew there was a shift in Connor. Just like last time. A moment where everything changed. Where good turned to bad, hope turned to defeat, and what should have been a relationship turned into silence and unanswered texts and so many what-ifs that he couldn’t sleep. Miguel had other people in his life. Lots of people. He was a social butterfly, always trying to get involved, to form as many relationships as he could. But Connor was his best friend. Or at least, he thought he was. He wanted to be more than that. Thought Connor wanted it, too. A part of his mind sometimes wondered if he had just used him, but that was an awful way to think. He gave up everything for him. He went to rehab to save his ass. That’s not what someone does if they just want to hook up. Connor cared about him. He sacrificed so much. Too much. But that only made it more confusing that he’d changed his mind so quickly.

And that brought Miguel here.

He’d only been to the Murphys’ house once, but he still knew the way. Sure, showing up at someone’s front door unannounced wasn’t exactly polite, but hey, Connor did it. He knocked on the door, clutching the bag of clothes in his free hand.

The man who opened the door, who Miguel assumed was Connor’s father, stared down at him, his expression unreadable.

“I’m sorry, we don’t want to buy anything,” he said. “But have a nice day.”

“No, no, wait!” Miguel called out as he started to close the door. “I’m not selling anything, I’m here for Connor.”

Connor’s dad paused.

“What’s in the bag?”

“It’s um…his clothes…” There was no way to admit that without it sounding weird. “He got caught in the rain and showed up at my house the other day, and…these were soaked, so I leant him some stuff. I’m just…returning these.”

“Larry, who’s at the-“ Connor’s mother came into view. Looking at them both, Miguel couldn’t imagine how the two of them could mix together and make Connor. He got Larry’s height, for sure. And aside from the brown spot, his eyes were the same shade of blue as his mom’s. But aside from that, they barely looked like him. At all.

“Hi, I’m sorry, I…I’m Connor’s friend.”

Unlike her husband, who immediately looked suspicious, her eyes lit up.

“You are?”

“I guess.”

“Oh, come on in! Come in, please. I’m sorry, the house is a mess, right now. We weren’t expecting company.”

“If I’m intruding…”

“Not at all. Any friend of Connor’s is welcome here, isn’t that right, Larry?” Her husband gave a curt nod. “I’m Cynthia.”

“Miguel.” He reached out and shook her hand. Larry’s eyes bored into him.

“So, how do you know Connor?”

“We met at Hanover.”

“And you still keep in touch?” Larry asked.

“Well, kind of. We did, for a while. But not so much, lately.”

“What’s in the bag?” Cynthia pointed to it. The longer he was there, the more ridiculous it felt that he was standing there holding a bag of his clothes.

“Oh, just…some of his things. I wanted to return them.”

“He’s right upstairs, in his room, last door on the left.”

Miguel hesitated. Honestly, he didn’t think he’d get this far. From what he’d heard about Connor’s parents, he hadn’t expected a warm reception. Still, this was what he came here to do.

“Thanks…” He smiled a little and made his way to Connor’s room. Looking around, he had no idea what Cynthia was talking about. The house wasn’t a mess. It was cleaner than his house was most of the time. There was an open newspaper on the coffee table, next to a half-empty glass of whiskey and a pair of reading glasses. The decorative pillows on the couch were pushed aside, and one had fallen to the floor. Aside from that, everything looked like it had been ripped from a magazine or a store display. Last time he was in here, he’d just assumed Connor had neatened up in hopes of making a good impression, but…this was just how the Murphys lived. A place for everything and everything in its place.

Cynthia followed behind. There was so much energy in her every move. Connor had always described her pretending to be enthusiastic, but this felt genuine. Was it really that much of a pleasant surprise that her son had made a friend?

His door was closed. Miguel had no idea what he’d be greeted with when it opened. Probably not anything good.

He knocked. No answer. Then he tried again.

“Connor, sweetie, open up,” Cynthia called through the door. A pause, then footsteps. The door swung open, and in an instant, he and Miguel were face-to-face. His eyes went wide and the door slammed shut.

That could have gone worse, Miguel supposed, but it definitely wasn’t ideal.

“Connor…” he said softly, leaning against the door a little. “I’m sorry, I can leave, I just um…have your clothes…from the other day.”

“Leave them in the hallway.”

“Connor…”

“I said leave them.”

“Can we talk? Please?”

For a moment, there was no response. Then he opened the door again.

“Why?”

“Because there’s obviously a lot we need to talk about.”

“We don’t _need_ to talk about anything. It’s done. We’re done.”

“ _You_ showed up at _my_ house.”

“And it was a terrible idea.”

“Maybe it wasn’t.”

“You showed up at his house?” Cynthia asked. That was when it hit Connor. Cynthia and Miguel. Standing there, together, in the hallway. Talking to each other.

This was a nightmare.

He had to get Miguel out. Away from his parents. He didn’t know why it was so important to him. Maybe, he figured, a part of him wanted his old friend to miss him. And if he knew him, _really_ knew him, then he wouldn’t.

“We can talk, but not here.”

“Okay. Good. You name the place.” Miguel paused. “If that’s okay with you, Mrs. Murphy.”

“Just don’t go far.”

“We won’t.” He nodded and let Connor lead him down the hall. His limp was still there, but considerably less obvious. If he hadn’t noticed it a few days ago, he may not have picked up on it, now.

As they walked past Larry, Connor barely spared him a glance. He had retired to the couch, where he was back to reading the newspaper. The reading glasses remained on the coffee table. They must have been Cynthia’s.

“Are they going somewhere?” Miguel heard him whisper to Cynthia once they were out of sight.

“They said they need to talk.”

“Are you sure we should let them?”

“Connor has a friend. I’m not going to step in and risk ruining it.”

“We should be there, Cynthia. This kid could be his drug dealer. That’s probably what was in the bag.”

They were out the door before they could hear anything else. Miguel didn’t dare say anything. It was bizarre, how little they trusted their own son. Larry more than Cynthia, but even she had an air about her. Like she was constantly walking on eggshells.

“I can’t believe you showed up.” Connor broke the silence, staring down at the ground as he walked.

“I had to see you.”

“Why?”

“Well, you kind of freaked me out the other day.” Miguel looked upon at him, but Connor’s gaze stayed fixed on the sidewalk. “Besides, I’ve missed you.”

“…you have?”

“Obviously.”

“Why?”

“Because you were a major part of my life for like, two years?”

“You have other people to go to.”

“They aren’t you.”

For a moment, Connor’s heart fluttered. Miguel had missed him. Even when everything said he shouldn’t have, he actually missed him. Finally, he looked up at him.

“I really don’t know what I was thinking, the other day.”

“Me neither, but…whatever it was, I’m glad you were thinking it. Freaked my mom out, though.”

“Can’t say I blame her.”

“That must have been an uncomfortable car ride.”

“It was. My fault, though. I’m the one who crashed my car.”

“You didn’t do that on purpose.”

Silence. Miguel was a little afraid of what that quiet meant, but he tried not to read into it.

“Are you getting a new one?”

“Nope. Larry says I’ve ‘lost that privilege.’ That if I’m going to have my own car, I’ve got to be more careful on the road.”

“That sucks.”

“I know. Feels like they’re punishing Zoe, too. Now she’s got to drive me around, everywhere.”

“Well that’s not fair to either of you.”

“That’s what we tried to tell them, but they don’t listen. Zoe’s pissed.”

“Is that why you’ve been walking everywhere?”

“Pretty much.”

“We’re going to the park, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Must be nice having that nearby, at least.”

“It is. Good place to escape to.”

The entrance came into view, and Miguel smiled a little. It was familiar, comfortable. But something was different.

“Hey, they finally fixed the sign.”

“Yeah, someone’s been working on it for a while, now.”

“Good to know _someone_ cares about this place. I was starting to think they’d just let it go to ruin.”

For so long, the two had gone to Ellison Park just about every day. They had a bench they’d always sit on and throw crumbs to birds. It was never taken. People just never seemed to go that far in. Not a lot of people went into the park _at all_ , anymore. Miguel thought the world was getting too out of touch with nature. Connor figured it was more a symptom of the general state of disrepair the place was in. Apparently, someone agreed with him.

As they walked in, it almost felt normal. Their normal, at least. Like they were just killing time after school. Like all those passing moments that seemed so insignificant until they stopped happening. Miguel missed this. A lot. It used to be so simple with Connor. So easy. They could talk about anything. But more importantly, they could talk about nothing. They could talk about nothing for hours and still find meaning in it.

Their park outings usually started with Miguel posing some big question about the world, always about a new, obscure subject that most people wouldn’t even think about. Connor would look at him like he was a genius. He never told him that they mostly came from a tear-off daily calendar his mom had gotten him for Christmas. There was a part of him that lived for those reactions. Miguel had gotten used to being the odd one out. Different. Connor made him feel like he was special.

Maybe that was what tore them apart, in the end. Maybe he’d misjudged their relationship and thought it meant something it didn’t, purely because of how it made _him_ feel. Maybe to Connor, he’d been nothing more than what this park was. An escape.

Wordlessly, they made their way to the bench. It was cold, for a summer day. Still overcast, but finally not raining. Miguel smiled, watching a pair of squirrels darting from tree to tree, chasing each other. This was always a good spot to watch the world. He hadn’t dared come back since that day in his room. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d be there with Connor again.

Connor was just as surprised, but a lot more conflicted. It felt so good, being back there. With _him_. To be sitting there together as if nothing had happened. For the first time all summer, he was happy. Ecstatic. Like he was about to explode. But that was dangerous. Now more than ever. Miguel met his parents. Cynthia was going to ask so many questions when he got home. And they still hadn’t discussed what happened before. Miguel would eventually demand a glimpse into the darker sides of Connor’s life again, and then it would fall apart and the fallout from that would be even worse than before.

This was dangerous. But he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t resist Miguel’s light. How could he, when it was the only thing that ever seemed to cut through the darkness?

“So…” Miguel said after they both sat in silence for what felt like forever. “Opinion: is water wet?”

“…is that an actual debate?”

“Oh yeah. Because here’s the thing: when something is covered in water, we all agree, it’s wet. Right?”

“Yeah.”

“Water is the thing that _makes_ something wet. But that doesn’t mean that _it’s_ wet. If you say something’s wet, that means it can become dry, and water can’t”

“Okay, but no, water is water. It’s inherently wet.”

“But is it, though?”

“It is.”

“So, elaborate.”

Minutes passed, then hours. Quickly, they fell into a pattern again. It was easy to remember why they used to feel so comfortable with each other. They could talk like this forever. Neither one dared mention the last few weeks, or what happened that day. They just embraced the times that came before it. The days they were a duo. When it felt like nothing could come between them. They talked about the world, about guys from Hanover, about the fire that destroyed the old house down the street. Miguel brought up his mother’s promise that they could adopt a kitten this year, which led into a story about the cat Connor and Zoe used to feed under the deck at their old house.

They could deal with their issues another day. In that moment, it was nice. Peaceful. Comfortable.

Until they heard it. Deeper in the woods.

A crash.


End file.
